


At Least You Don't Snore

by quason



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crying, Drarry, Fiendfyre, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Light Angst, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quason/pseuds/quason
Summary: Harry can't sleep, and neither can the blond boy in the bed next to him.





	At Least You Don't Snore

**Author's Note:**

> An entirely self indulgent one-shot. I've had this idea for ages and finally reached a presentable piece, so please enjoy!

_ At Least You Don’t Snore _

__

Harry’s eyes were twitching with tiredness. It felt like bricks were attached to the lids, trying to pull them down and down until he fell asleep and gave his body some well-deserved rest. But Harry couldn’t, and he most certainly wouldn’t be falling asleep in the same room as Draco Malfoy.

He pretended he didn’t care when McGonagall read out the lists of roommates, but in reality his heart leapt into his throat and an unfortunately familiar cold feeling was seeping through his veins and settling in his stomach, rendering him speechless.

So far, he and Malfoy hadn’t exchanged a word, staying away from each other, slipping into their beds in silence. The silence carried on throughout the night until- one o’clock, Harry checked- and no disturbances yet. He wished he could go back down to the common room to listen to the radio to distract himself from- well, _everything._

However, he had promised Ron and Hermione to at least stay lying in bed that night, and he hated letting his friends down, even if they didn’t know any wiser.

So, he was confined to his four poster until the light outside shone through the window and he could leave, and try his best not to fall asleep into his porridge. (Which had happened before, at the Weasleys. Moist oats were surprisingly hard to _accio_ out of the nose).

Harry desperately wished that a cup of strong coffee would be enough to keep him awake tomorrow. It would be the first day of his ‘eighth year’, and he could really not do with mucking it up, never mind the nagging from Hermione, however good and caring the intentions of her pestering were.

He knew his friends were worried for him. He barely slept anymore. And when he did, purely on accident, he woke up screaming, covered in sweat and tears and vomit, with the imprints of another  horrific nightmare stamped on his eyeballs for the rest of the week, at least.

He shuddered at the thought of Malfoy waking up to that. The absolute field day he’d have, along with Parkinson and Zabini, would be horrible. He took comfort in the fact that Ron and Hermione would hex them into tomorrow, though. He smirked when he remembered his and George’s combined curse on Crabbe- and immediately felt a pang as he remembered that Crabbe was now dead. Impaled upon his own sword. The fiendfyre.

He shivered (ironic) at the thought of the fiendfyre that nearly killed him and the boy in the bed a couple metres away. That was the most emotion he’d ever seen on the blond’s face, complete and utter terror and grief in his silver eyes as he flew him to safety. _Didn’t even get a thank you,_ he grumbled to himself, _after all that faff_. _Still a pompous git, even after a disaster like that._

Harry rolled over and started at a sudden noise that pierced through the air. It sounded a bit like a mouse, he thought, and ignored it. He was used to the sort from back at Privet Drive, where all sorts lived in the cupboard he was forced to live in.

Harry heard the noise again, and he frowned. It wasn’t a squeak- more of a whine, or a cry, but with an echoey, tunnelled sound as though he was in an empty hall.

His mind immediately went to Peeves, probably still wreaking havoc with the painting and sentient suits of armour around Hogwarts, and he settled back down, before hearing yet another sound, only this time, Harry shot up, groping around for his glasses and wand. He knew that sound. He knew that sound _well,_ and it was a sob- he cast a quick lumos, sliding out of bed to locate the sound before realising it was coming from- Malfoy’s bed?!

He now recognised the signs of a shoddily cast silencing charm. Echoing and the effect of distance, and distortion of the sound. He rolled his eyes, knowing _muffliato_ would have been infinitely more effective.

Harry bit his lip in slow deliberation. Should he go and talk to Malfoy, or leave him alone, or fetch one of his friends- no, even he didn’t have to guts to wake up Parkinson- he definitely preferred his head _not_ speared on a stake, thank you very much.

Harry crept forward, holding his wand aloft and ready to block or send a hex any way, and made the _lumos_ a bit brighter, so he could see where he was treading.

Merlin, it really was Malfoy behind the curtains of the bed, crying and Harry felt something in his heart when he heard the sobs that were quietly gaining in volume- probably due to the crap charm, which Harry knew was difficult to perform in the best circumstances, but…

Harry knew he could just recast the charm, and back off into his own bed, but his conscience told him not to. I mean, yes, behind the curtains was a pompous prick, but also someone similar to him, who was young, and hurting, and before he knew it his hand was pulling back the curtains and the light was shining on the curled up figure in the bed.

A head of dishevelled hair shot up, and Harry was a little shocked to see Malfoy’s usually composed, perfectly pale face to be blotchy and red, and wet with tears, although his signature sneer automatically graced his mouth. Harry didn’t retaliate.

“Come to- to insult me and slice me open again, Potter?” He said, but with a slight -hic- in the middle, which kind of ruined the intimidation of the sentence.

“I came to see if you were ok, Malfoy,” Harry frowned. He certainly didn’t seem alright, and whilst Harry wasn’t rushing to his side, it made him uncomfortable to see him so distraught.

“Unlikely, Potter.” Malfoy sneered, vigorously scrubbing at his face. “I’m entirely fine, you see? So bugger off, and- hang on, WHY ON EARTH WERE YOU LOOKING IN MY BED?” Malfoy’s voice slowly raised, and he rapidly lifted the blanket up to his neck.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You’re shit at Silencing Charms, Malfoy.”

A light flush appeared across his cheekbones, and Harry found himself being a little surprised- Malfoy could blush?

Harry sat himself gingerly on the bed, next to Malfoy’s curled up legs. “Nightmare?” He asked, softly.

“What does it matter to you, Potter?”

“Well, erm, I don’t really want you to cry, I guess?”

“I wasn’t crying, Potter!” Malfoy said indignantly. Harry just raised his eyebrows.

“Well then are you ok? Do you want me to get help? I mean what was it about? I don’t know, Voldemort? Cr- what happened in the Room of Requirement? I mean, I could get someone, or..”

Harry was looking at his hands, that were twisting around each other. Harry was nervous, and he didn’t exactly know why.

Suddenly, a hand hit him on the shoulder, and he looked up at Malfoy, who was holding a hand to his mouth, eyes full of fresh tears, and he was continually hitting Harry weakly on the shoulder.

“Go-away-NOW” He was muttering, and he began groping at the curtains, trying to close them.

“Malfoy- _Malfoy_ \- Draco!” Malfoy’s head popped up at the use of his first name, but Harry saw the quivering lip and lone tear and though _fuck it, this boy is hurting,_ and promptly scooped his ex-arch-nemesis into a massive bear hug.

He almost expected to be impaled upon Malfoy’s wand, or to be hit by a hex, or Malfoy to just tell him to bugger off, but he seemed to relax into Harry’s shoulder.

It didn’t take long for the sobs to start and he was surprised (yet again) by the fact that Malfoy was even respoding without malice. However, now wasn’t the time for analysing the situation.

All he did was wrap his arms around Malfoy, and rub his back, whispering comforts into his ear, mimicking Mrs Weasley and Ron and Hermione, whenever he woke up from one of his night terrors. He could hear Malfoy saying words like ‘Crabbe’, ‘Dead’ ‘Burning’ and ‘Sorry’ repeatedly, and Harry shut his eyes even tighter and tightened his arms further around Malfoy, which made him wrap his arms around Harry in return.

It was nice, he decided, having Malfoys arms round his torso and hands on his back, rubbing gently, if it wasn’t for the rather depressing reason. He was reminded of his wet kiss shared with Cho Chang. He brought his minds back from that however, and concentrated on comforting the boy in front of him.

The sobs had slowed, and Harry felt a sense of accomplishment at comforting the boy in his arms.

Quite abruptly, Malfoy removed his arms from around Harry, and smiled weakly (which Harry decided was pretty, albeit sad). He sniffed once and said “Sorry for being so loud.” Harry smiled gently. “And sorry for being shit at silencing charms.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Harry said, placing a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. “At least you don’t snore, that’s the only thing I can’t stand.”

Malfoy leant forward and chuckled wetly into Harry’s chest, obviously exploiting the fact that their barriers were broken down to dust.

Harry stood up, supressing a yawn and took a step, before a voice rang out from behind him.

“Um, Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“Err- I mean, um,-“ Malfoy seemed to be stuttering.

“Spit it out,” Harry joked, with a grin on his face, brightening his _lumos_ to catch Malfoy’s face in the light.

“Would you, erm- can you, er, um, stay in the bed with me?” Malfoy looked like he wanted to jump of a cliff at this exact moment, and Harry was finding it quite sweet that Malfoy could be awkward.

Harry smiled anyway, going over to Malfoys bed and slipping under the sheets, slowly running his hands over Malfoy’s back and through his hair as the blonde fell asleep.

 _I mean_ , thought Harry- **much** _better this than nothing._


End file.
